Hot Water
by CelestePhantasm
Summary: Hot water has a variety of uses. Namely cleaning and washing and bathing, of course. But hot water is also a great stress reliever...at least, to a point. JJ/Reid


_**DISCLAIMER**_: I do **NOT** own _Criminal Minds_. I don't anything related to it or any of the actors in it. I do this for fun, not profit. I make no money from this.

So, this is my first post in this particular place. I've largely gone out of writing fan-fiction, but this show warrants it, because it is amazing. Tell me how I did, please.

_**Hot Water**_

Hot water was all-important. To women, at least. Men didn't care, really.

They didn't need the hot water to wash dishes, or to take a nice, hot shower to relax the muscles. They didn't need the hot water for long, either; a shower never took long. They didn't have long hair to wash and condition. No, they were the lucky ones.

Women appreciated hot water. It was like magic. It had so many valuable uses, like cleaning and washing and bathing.

Bathing, especially.

Jennifer Jareau, especially, appreciated hot water. It was her best friend after missions. The flight would make her ache, on top of the stress of her job. The running would make anyone sore. Hot water was her solace at the end of the day, especially in the cold of winter, as it happened to be in her part of the world.

Oh, not always a bath; a hot shower would do for the easier days.

But for days like today, she needed a bath.

With the works.

She appreciated her large bathtub; it was tall and long and wide. She ran the water hotter than ever, dumping copious amounts of scented salts in it, and far too much bubble bath. While the water ran, she lit candles, intending to fill the room with scents to block out everything else. She even put on music; opera, because the language fascinated her so much, took her away from the real world and to dream of a much, much better world. A world where there were fewer people, and therefore fewer criminals, fewer people starving, or homeless. Where sleep came smoothly and there were no nightmares, where there were parties and balls and going to a play or an opera was a rare but wonderful thing, where happiness abounded.

Not of family. Her family had been broken. She missed Will, and Henry. Henry was always away, with his father, because she was always gone, with no one to look after him but her ex. He had hated the fact that she was gone all the time, that she had gone back to the BAU.

She had cried for days.

Cried on _him_, because he was the only one she could go to, at first. Morgan wouldn't know what to say, and Hotch and Rossi just weren't the ones to go to for comfort. Garcia would be too sympathetic, would try too hard. And Prentiss…well, she had enough troubles.

Reid was the only one she could lean on. Yes, Spencer Reid had become her rock. She eventually told the others, but he was the first. He was awkward at first, having no experience in these things. But she had asked him to not say anything, to just let her sit with him.

She had asked him to hold her.

To let her stay the night, just for a few days, because she couldn't stand to be alone in that house, with all those memories and hopes.

It hurt too much.

She had woken one morning in his bed, disoriented and aching all over. She had been in so much pain, and feeling lost. She hadn't known what was going on, until she had opened her eyes properly, waking up, thinking. She had realized that he was sound asleep at her side, one arm around her, snoring just barely in her ear, but his face was twisted up in pain. He was lightly bruised and she could see that he was almost awake, apparently unable to sleep. It took time to remember what had happened, and then she knew it, as she tried to adjust her body, not wanting to wake him, but numb and aching to move.

She was so sore. Memories came back, and she realized that she had gotten angry, remembered the phone call, remembered everything…including her sobbing gasps, seeing him run to her. He had wrapped his arms around her to hold her up, and she had hated him for it, wishing she could fall through the floor, hit her head, anything. She had wrestled with him, hitting him for holding her, for saving her, when she wanted to die.

_I did that, _she had realized. She had battered and bruised her best friend, and somehow, he had still gone to bed with her in his arms.

It was the only way she had been able to sleep.

Now, though he still welcomed her with open arms, she did not run to him. She had hurt him too much that night.

Hot water didn't do it as well as he did, but it would do for now. She turned off the faucet and allowed the bath to cool as she went back in to her room, setting out her clothes for the night, and the next day, stripping those she wore away, putting them in to a little basket in her closet, pulling on a silky robe. She sought out the fluffiest towels she could, placing lotions and creams and everything else a lady needed to pamper herself after a bath.

She was pulling her hair down when she heard the quiet doorbell, a knock following. She was only barely decent, and it was so very late at night. She wrapped her robe tightly around her, padding to her door, not even touching the lock, but looking out the little peephole on the door. Her eyebrows knitted together when she saw who it was, and debated telling him to leave. She wasn't dressed enough for any coworker to see her. But she'd shared a bed with him, hadn't she? Just the once, after she had bruised him so, but she had been wearing pajamas, then. She was in a light bath robe and her hair was messy and—

It came again. "I know you're there. Your car is out front and I hear music. Come on, JJ."

It was definitely not one of his better statements. He'd usually rattle off half a dozen reasons for why he knew she was there. He sounded awful, like he was tired and depressed. She found herself softly biting her lip, but her locks clicked and she disarmed the alarm. She opened the door shyly. "Look, Spence, I'm not decent, I was about to…"

She trailed off when she finally got a good look at him. The tiny hole in the door was not good for really looking at someone. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. He looked worn and ill. She bit her lip again. "Come on in." She couldn't send him away, not when he looked so terrible.

He trembled in the doorway, but he stepped out, anyway. He came in from the prickling cold, shivering, but making no move to go farther than he had come; just enough to let her close the door, and lock it. She watched him for a long time, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. He only stood there, shivering and silent and ill-looking.

He looked like statue, but for the trembling, and she couldn't stand it. Despite her state of undress, she wrapped her arms around him, wishing he would speak, wishing she knew what to do, wishing that he would tell her what was going on. She didn't have a clue as to what she was doing; Reid didn't do physical contact, really.

But then, she felt his arms go around her, and though the trembling increased, she knew it wasn't from the cold. She heard him gasp, and his long, limber arms tightened on her.

He was crying.

"Spence." She breathed it in to his ear, her bath forgotten, not caring for the fact that the robe began to untie, not caring that there was an exceptionally hot bath waiting for her; she only cared that Spencer was crying and that there was something definitely wrong and that she wanted desperately to do something for him. "Spence, I'm here. It's okay."

But his grip tightened on her, holding her close for the longest time, not letting her go even when he began to ache from bending over to clutch her, that the muscles in his arms were trembling and sore from tension, that his fingers were becoming stiff from being twisted in her robe. He ignored the pain and aching and trembling and just clung to her, wishing she would never, ever let go of him…wishing that he would never have to let go of her.

But his arms were too tired, and his grip began to loosen, until his arms fell back down, just barely hanging on to her robe, and he was breathing a little again, wishing that he hadn't come. Now he had to explain this. Now he had to tell her why he'd shown up at her door in the middle of the night, trembling and sick and wanting to hold her and crying on her shoulder. Now he had to explain his insane urge to sweep her up in a hug and never, ever let her go, had to tell her why he had completely lost his mind, since this was definitely not the Spencer Reid that she knew.

He sighed in to her neck, her soft hair ruffling in response, and he buried his head there. Even after the long days gone, after the too-long flight home, she smelled wonderful. "JJ…"

It was the first thing he'd said since he'd come in, and it spread butterflies in her stomach; he sounded wistful, and his breathing was calmer, and now he was gently wrapped around her tiny body, hands barely on her hips, but his legs against hers, his torso softly leaned against hers, his head resting on her shoulder. The way his breath brushed over her skin made the hairs at the nape of her neck gently stir, barely, making her far too aware of the feelings she'd developed for him after he had taken her in. "Spence?"

He hesitated. Could he do it? It took him a little while, but after some silence, he gently pulled his head away, but still leaned down, meeting her big, blue eyes. They were shiny, worried, having been teary before. She looked so vulnerable. His embrace had loosened her robe, which was showing a little too much skin, and she looked so tired. She was so tiny, and he had only noticed that once before; when she had come to him for comfort. For all the strength she showed at work, he realized that she gave it all there, not at home. At home, she was not so strong; she was vulnerable and tiny and didn't have to put up that hard face to the media.

She was so skinny and fragile, he wanted to hold her again, but it wouldn't be right to drag it out more. He watched her. But it didn't want to wait, and he was too tired to resist it. He leaned in to her, catching her lips softly, hesitant, gentle, timid. He was so unsure, knowing she must not think of him this way, but for the longest time, he had liked her. She had cared for him, how could he not be attracted to her? And she was so beautiful, even in her frailty.

JJ was so shocked that she felt like a puppet; she was acting on desire that didn't feel like her own, doing what she was told without knowing what she was doing. Her arms reached up and wrapped around his neck and she pulled him down; he was too tall, and too hesitant. She felt her lips moving, but didn't seem to do it herself. She kissed him back and pure, ultimate joy rushed through her body, soothing every ache and pain and all the tiredness.

When Spencer's arms went back around her, settling around her waist, holding her close, she began to feel her own mind again, she realized that everything in her was right; she wanted this and it was perfect. She'd been in denial for so long, trying to hope that it would go away, that he wouldn't notice, that he wouldn't act on it, and that she, especially, wouldn't. But it felt so good, so amazing, so perfect, she didn't care that this was wrong, that her bosses would probably fire one of them if they were found out.

Nothing crossed her mind, or his, but how perfect the other felt, how everything was just right and that nothing had ever felt better in life.

The kiss deepened until they were both gasping for air and aching in very different ways than before, clutching each other, meeting eyes and seeing flushed cheeks. Neither spoke, at first, until they both began to grin, delighted, overwhelmed, and they were gasping each other's names and kissing each other, soft little pecks on the lips and cheeks, happier than ever before, not knowing what to do with themselves and yet knowing one thing; they couldn't be apart.

JJ finally found her words, and she whispered them softly to him. "You know…I have a tub full of what is now probably lukewarm water. Why don't I drain it and put on some pajamas and we'll…"

She only stopped because his soft lips were on hers, his teeth biting very softly on her lip, his tongue soothing the little nibble. "Why don't we put it to better use?" His whisper was softly breathless and delighted, unable to stop grinning.

JJ quickly found that Spencer Reid, though inexperienced in romance, was a very fast learner indeed. There was no need for a ridiculously hot bath after that night, not really, though she did find herself having one with some frequency.

JJ loved hot water…especially when it was accompanied by her Spencer.

_**End**_

I know, it's fluffy and unlikely to happen, and they're a tad OOC, but I really, really can't stand Will. I just think it's a terrible match-up and I'd love to know what the heck the writers were thinking.

Anyway, please review. It helps me improve, and will let me know if you want to see more from me on here. This was just a quick little thing, inspired by the fact that JJ said that Will wasn't happy with her returning to the BAU, the fact that I don't like Will, and some random thought about how a hot bath sounded really nice.

If you'd like to see more _Criminal Minds _fiction from me, review! I'd love to hear it, because this is definitely my favorite show.

Have a nice day!


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